Kings, Tyrants, and Demons

A great big THANK YOU to my beta Pixelgoddess. This chapter was difficult for me but with her help its been cleaned up quite nicely.

Enjoy!

Chapter Eleven: The Planet Trade


Piccolo…

Stars blurred past his unseeing eyes serving as an ever-present reminder of the vast distance he was putting between them.

Deep within him a link that lay dormant for too long begged to be touched. He hovered over it.

Do you think on me? Even a little? Pitch eyes reflected in the glass. The dark rings under his eyes made them look hollow. It reminded him of the dead. He hated them. Are you full of anger, my love? Betrayal...Relief?

He edged closer to that bond, ghosting it, longing to touch it if only for a moment. But he was unworthy. Painfully, he drew away from it and lost himself in his star-streaked reflection. It was then he thought upon another bond he dared not touch, but for a very different reason.

My son…what have you done? You are lost to me. These humans and their weak tendencies, genetics… He blinked, the only outward sign of his distress as he mentally chastised himself. No excuses. As much as I’d like to I can’t blame your human side…but how could you?! His thoughts became a muddled confusion of anger, hurt, and guilt, shifting between each without warning. “You knew! You knew and still you disobeyed; willingly betraying our ancestry. Our people…but what could you really know of them? My child…That third-class…he is no Saiyan, he never was! A mockery and joke…a thief. Power, pride, honor - and now you…he stole them all from me!

His thoughts shifted again. My mate…my beloved, I had to… He destroyed my life…if anything be sacred in this existence let me be avenged in some way! But at what cost? What have I done?...I can only hope for peace to those who were caught up in this nameless mess. He leaned his head upon the pane, drawing a shuddering breath in an attempt to ease the pandemonium fluctuating in his mind and heart. In the distance he heard a dull roar of fury that existed for his ears alone.

I can hear my people screaming for blood that I dare not draw, that I cannot draw. Father, he pleaded, What has become of me? Would you be proud of me now? I have become the Legendry, I have tasted ultimate power…there is nothing so terrible, so lonely. Is this what you wanted for me? Is that why you sent me away? Did he make you? Did he use me against you? A very familiar feeling clenched his chest upon asking that question. I always wondered how you could be so weak to be used in such a manner, but now I think I may understand. I wish…I just wish I knew. It has plagued me since I was taken…always haunting my steps. If I meet you in the afterlife will you tell me why? Or will you mock my own weaknesses?

The window fogged as his breath hit the cool glass. He shut his eyes, no longer able to look at the man he had become or linger on questions that had haunted him since he was a boy. Instead, he returned to the more painful present.

Piccolo, Gods how I wish you were here right now…I can hardly bear this. But I must. I have to, as you have to unfairly cope with the results of my actions. Do you understand why I left? Do you even care? Do you understand how much I hate myself, how I would take my own life for what I have done to you if I could? This bond…this beautiful, horrible bond would take us both. Kami and Nail…I didn’t mean…if I could do it all over again I’d never have touched…I couldn’t control…I may not be able to do anything to warrant your forgiveness but I will never again chase after power—

“Hey, I think I found a pretty decent planet to land on next, do you want—are you all right?”

Vegeta moved away from the porthole and slowly turned to the youth who had just entered the room fiddling with a bottle of water in his hands.

“I’m fine,” he said gruffly, “what did you find?”

Goten didn’t believe his mentor was ‘fine’ but was wise enough not to dwell on the matter.

“It’s called Arbia.”

“Arbia?” The prince’s tired eyes narrowed in thought. “In the third quadrant of this system?”

Goten hesitated, but after taking a moment to think, nodded. He seemed pleased with himself that he was able to answer.

However, the elite shook his head with a slight grimace.

“That’s no good. Arbia is part of the Planet Trade.”

“But the Planet Trade’s symbol wasn’t on it in the P.A.C.,” the teen protested, “just a funny squiggle.”

“Was the ‘funny squiggle’ purple?”

“Yeah, so?”

“So,” he drew out, forcing his composure to return, “that means it is part of the Trade but under Cooler’s old jurisdiction.”

“Cooler? Isn’t that—?”

“Frieza’s brother,” Vegeta finished for him.

Goten looked confused. “So Frieza’s brother had his own Planet Trade?”

“No, it’s the same empire.”

“Then why does he have a different symbol? I thought Frieza was the head guy.”

Vegeta moved away from the window frowning, remembering his promise to tell the boy about his former employer. A promise he was reminded of on a regular basis.

“Frieza is—was,” he corrected, “the ‘head guy,’” he strode to the command chair and took a seat gesturing for the teen to do the same. Goten complied, wearing a look that suggested he had brought this line of questioning up on purpose. Vegeta noted it and snorted, deciding it wasn’t worth the fuss.

“The Planet Trade was started by Frieza’s father, King Cold, well over five hundred years ago—”

“Five hundred years!? Dende! How old was this guy?”

“If you’re going to interrupt,” Vegeta snarled, “you can forget it and go back to your room.”

Goten was appropriately cowed and bowed his head.

“Sorry.”

The elder Saiyan made a noise of displeasure and after glowering over the teen for a few moments began again.

“To answer your question, I’m not sure how old anyone in the Cold family was, save that Frieza was the youngest. I know of no one, apart from a deceased warrior by the name of Zarbon, who knows anything about Frieza’s race.” He grinned slightly as he recalled the reason why the blue-skinned man was ‘deceased’. Goten shot him a strange look but he didn’t seem to notice it. “From what the pretty boy let slip,” he continued, “Frieza was from a species of changelings. I’m not sure which.” He gave a half-hearted shrug.

“I know from working with the pale bastard that his kind, or at least his family, was patriarchal but that’s about it. However,” he added, “it was assumed he and his clan are—were, thankfully—the last survivors of their race. There was a rumor flying around the base that it was Frieza himself who wiped out his own people. Something about him throwing a tantrum in court while he was a child and his father quickly erasing all records of their species to hide the fact. That would explain why there isn’t any mention of his kind in the P.A.C or any other database for that matter.”

The dark-haired teen’s eyes lit up. He’d been trying furiously to gain more information about Frieza on his own but to no avail. This was a possible reason why his hours of searching produced nothing.

Keep in mind,” the prince said seriously, taking note of Goten’s change in demeanor “that this is hearsay and gossip, which had a habit of running wild amongst the lower ranks. Logically,” he pointed out, “if there are more of Frieza’s race I’m sure he would have wanted to hide the fact from any potential enemies; the Demons know he had many.”

Goten did not seem put-off by this in the least. Instead he soundlessly urged the elite to continue. Vegeta did, but only after smirking at the youth’s impatience.

“The beginnings of the Planet Trade was rather pathetic and scarcely worth mentioning until its final 150 years, when Frieza was in command. It started out as hardly more than a group of high-born fanatics clearing a few planets for the sheer sadistic pleasure of it. This of course, was when King Cold was in charge. Over the years he slowly made a business of his hobby. Early in this development he transferred some control to his eldest son and heir.”

He reclined in his chair, tapping his fingers on the armrest in recollection of the stories he had heard over thirty years ago. “Cooler strengthened the Trade into something a bit more lucrative by engaging a paying clientele. However,” he said with a smirk, “he wasn’t the best businessman. More than once he blew up a planet before he could pass it on to a paying customer,” he added, “Other times he re-sold an already occupied planet to a higher bidder. To top things off, he was a snob, refusing to dirty his hands with any business dealings with ‘unworthy’ races; for him, this was most of the galaxy. Destroying them was no problem, but doing business with common races was, apparently, beneath him.”

Goten looked like he was going to interrupt; fortunately he caught himself in time and simply raised his brow in surprise.

“This carried on for a few hundred years,” Vegeta continued, “and while the Planet Trade was feared it was obvious it was not going to last the way things were going. The clientele was thinning out,” he sniffed as if amused by the story. “No prizes for guessing why. Poor customer relations were a big part of it; Cooler’s temper was renowned. The main issue was damaged goods in the form of uninhabitable realty.”

Goten looked visibly confused.

The prince took pity on him and clarified his last statement. “Not a lot of people showed an interest in buying a planet that had a 50% chance of being delivered to them charbroiled. As powerful as that purple freak was, bullying would only get him so far. Thus it seemed that the Planet Trade was on its last legs…and then Frieza suddenly came out of the woodwork.”

He shook his head slightly.

“No one is sure what happened. As the second child, he had no claim on the Planet Trade. To all appearances had spent nearly a hundred years happily sitting on the sidelines while Cooler and his father ruled supreme. However, something caused him to take an interest in the family business. In less than four decades he took complete control, transforming the dying Trade into a Galactic Empire.”

He paused, stealing the teen’s bottle of water. Goten relinquished it to him without protest and waited patiently while the elite took a sip.

“It was initially believed there was some sort of internal coup amongst the Cold family, but this theory died when Frieza bestowed his father and brother large quadrants of his empire. They had authority in their own sectors, but he remained absolute ruler. Thus it appears that the Planet Trade was handed over willingly, and in retrospect, wisely to the youngest of the Cold family.”

“Did you ever work with Cooler or King Cold?—Sorry.” Goten covered his mouth in haste, praying the elite wouldn’t stop and send him away.

“No.” Vegeta answered, allowing the query, though he did narrow his eyes. “I didn’t work with them but I knew of them,” he shrugged letting his annoyance leave him, “everyone on Frieza’s base knew of them but no one ever saw them. The quadrants were kept separate. Only Frieza and a few of his aides traveled to them from time to time. We were not allowed to interfere with Cooler’s or King Cold’s territories and had to get special permission to even pass through them.”

The demi-Saiyan nodded, seemingly spellbound with the elite’s narration. The prince was both touched and slightly disturbed by the teen’s keen interest.

“Under Frieza’s reign the clientele multiplied into several thousand. Though as cruel and cold-hearted as his brother and father, Frieza was a hell of an entrepreneur. He shared his brother’s disdain for ‘lower races’ yet was more than willing to do business with them, using them to meet his ends. This attitude extended to employment practices; it wasn’t long before he had a rather large range of personnel under his wing. He was more careful than his brother with commodities and rarely blew up planets…unless,” he added, “they were truly worthless…or what he considered a threat.” An ominous shadow fell upon his features with that last statement. He paused in his narration to contain an old hatred welling inside him.

Goten astutely allowed the man his time by keeping silent although he did shift nervously in his seat as if he had to badly use the toilet.

“Instead,” Vegeta said after a moment, disregarding the teen’s fidgeting, “he took specially trained teams to strip worlds of their inhabitants while maintaining the integrity of the planet. He did this by introducing the class system in the Empire. Certain classes had certain responsibilities. It’s far too intricate to get into now,” he said, “but you’ll have to take my word it was a very complex system of hierarchy—is there something crawling around in your pants that’s making you squirm like that?”

Goten blushed but took the opportunity to speak.

“No, I was just wondering why anyone would want to work for someone like that?” he asked. “Did he force people or what?”

“In most instances he did not. In fact he turned many away. He only forced a few who showed,” the prince chose his words carefully, “an exceptional talent.”

Goten pointedly looked at the older man next to him, but was not brave enough to ask such a personal question. At least not yet.

Vegeta noticed this and raised a brow in challenge. Goten lowered his gaze discreetly and cleared his throat to break the uncomfortable silence.

“As to why anyone would want to work for him,” the elite said slowly, “the reason is obvious; money and power.”

“He paid well?”

“That depended on rank, but generally, yes.”

“And I guess the promise to blow things up appealed to a lot of people.” Goten said thinking back to his classmates who were desperate to join the military for the same reason.

Vegeta smirked, “Very astute, Goten.”

The teen didn’t know whether to take that as sarcasm or an actual complement. He banked on the former.

“As I was saying, if there are no more questions…”

Goten shook his head.

“Because of this new efficiency, paying customers flocked to the Trade in droves, eager for a new home world or an additional planet to add to their territories. Once purchased and re-occupied Frieza was careful to allow a degree of self-government - as long as the laws of the Empire were strictly observed. These laws included unquestioning loyalty and the payment of a planet-specific tariff.”

“We’d be here for days if I listed them all, but the laws were basic and simple to understand. Beyond that, occupied planets could do as they wished regarding internal politics, disputes, and customs - so long as they did not come into conflict with the Trade.” He sighed heavily as he realized he would have to give at least a few examples if the look Goten was gracing him with was anything to judge by.

“For instance,” he began, “wars on an interplanetary scale were prohibited. Even planet-level battles were discouraged, requiring approval in order to ensure any goods produced for tax purposes were protected. Once you were a part of the Trade it was for good. On the upside, there was the comfort in knowing no one else could buy your planet out from under you or attack you without having the entire Empire retaliate. On the downside, it was permanent. Under no circumstances could you leave the Trade, unless, of course, you had a death wish.”

He smiled slightly as if recalling some lost memory. Goten found it a tad creepy. “You could buy another planet in addition to your own,” Vegeta elucidated, “but you were stuck with your initial purchase. No refunds,” he said to simplify the statement, although it was unnecessary. Goten tried not to be offended yet he couldn’t help but asking;

“How were these laws enforced? Surely Frieza couldn’t be in a hundred places at once?”

Vegeta was impressed by this question and made a mental note not to compare the teen’s mental capacities with his sire’s. He rewarded the demi-Saiyan by not snapping at him for interrupting him yet again.

“It was enforced by a governor representing the Trade on each planet, usually a member of the local elite who were bestowed privileges of the Empire.” He absentmindedly took another sip of his stolen water. “By doing this he gained the loyalty of the planet’s elite freely without having to intimidate… most of the time. Some planets proved to be,” again that unsettling smile surfaced on the prince’s face, “difficult.”

Goten regarded the elite warily but the look of nervousness fled the youth’s features as he absorbed the older man’s words. He was…dazzled, utterly dazzled. Though he knew it was wrong, he was seriously impressed with the Planet Trade. However his awe of the Empire was cut short when Vegeta’s voice picked up again.

“It was through these acquisitions Frieza was able to exploit scientific communities for cutting edge technical and medical knowledge and warrior cultures for man power,” the elder Saiyan said, careful to keep his voice even, though he did lean back more in his seat to stare at the ceiling as he continued to reminisce.

“Frieza nurtured the Empire by employing and sending out cultural envoys to schmooze with potential clients. Unlike Cooler, he did a lot of this himself. I don’t know how many languages he spoke, but I’d venture it was over several hundred, my native tongue among them,” he frowned here, “I admit we were rather put off when we realized we couldn’t talk behind his back, at least not without risk. Frieza’s base was very strict; everything was monitored.”

“We?” Goten ventured.

Vegeta’s eyes shifted to the teen before looking back at the ceiling.

“Radditz, Nappa, and myself. As I’m sure you’ve been told, we were something of a ‘team’; a specific squad on Frieza’s base.”

“And what did you do…specifically?” the teen asked apprehensively.

Vegeta repressed a grin, he had wondered if the boy had the balls to ask that question.

“We cleared high-profile planets of their inhabitants; only those of high value with a difficult local population,” Vegeta answered matter-of-factly, not in the least bit ashamed of his former career. At least not that he showed.

“Oh,” Goten said. It was all he could say.

Vegeta smiled darkly at him, knowing that last morsel of information had effectively ended the conversation.

“Is that a sufficient history?”

“Yeah…” Goten said a bit weakly.

A smirk of triumph appeared on the elite’s face and he made to leave the room.

“…for now,” the teen finished.

Vegeta halted in mid-stride to regard the teen behind him. He instantly scowled, irritated to find Goten sporting a willful smirk of his own.


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Wow! Look at those hits! *beams* yay!

Anywho, on to thank you's (which I admit is long overdue)

Dania: As always your kind words and support urge me to keep at it, despite time constraints and real life. Without ppl like you this fic wouldn't be possible. Thanks so much.

Pic's Pixie: Your patience is much appreciated. Sadly real life keeps me busy but your reviews do honestly make me want to rush to the keyboard. As for the rating I will live up to it very soon. I know you've been paitent (Hell it's been over a year since I started this ... I feel horrible) but it will pay off! I am working on UB I, though KTD is getting the spot light. The reason UB is taking so long is because I'm changing things around. In fact ch 18 has been deleted (it sucked) and I've re-written it from scratch. Several other chapters are going to get this treatment, thus the wait. I can't say when it's going to be updated as I have school, work, etc. to deal with but I assure you it is not forgotten! I appreciate your loyalty to the fics and I hope this chapter met with your approval. *hugs8

Pooky Wooky: You liked Vorosu eh? You'll be seeing a bit more of him in the future. I'm glad you liked the last chapter and hoped you enjoyed this one as well, thanks for your continuing support. With fans like you it makes fic writing all the more enjoyable. :)

Mehla Seraphim: I always love your reviews. yep, Vegeta killed off a whole village...that's going to be (unless I change my mind) very important down the road. Thanks for the kind words!